CHAPTER EIGHT: Capitaine! Capitaine! Voyage Ton Flag!
It was a beautiful day for the Cajun Extravaganza and Gumbo Cook Off. The waters of Lake Charles rocked gently with dozens of boats zipping across the expanse. Another dozen floated lazily, anchored off the shore of the Festival. The open space by the Convention Center was dotted with rides, running children, food stands and craft booths. Every person in Lake Charles seem to be sporting several strands of metallic colored plastic beads in a variety of sizes and shapes. It was the weekend of Mardi Gras and a beautiful one at that. Everyone was in a forgiving and festive mood. Dozens of booths sported the flags of Southwest Louisiana krewe. Each flag bore the signia of the krewe-- some with a French theme, some a Mardi Gras theme, other a historical or royalty theme. Some flags were elaborate, some were simple bands of gold, green and purple.
Raven and Cayenne strolled the fairgrounds, taking in the fun and a bit of warmth from the winter sun. As they walked, Raven instructed Cay as to who was who and what was what.
"That empty booth there? That's reserved for the Krewe of Barkus. They have their big parade downtown right now, so we won't see them until later. They always like to hand out information about obedience classes and spaying clinics. They're a rather serious bunch."
"That's where Francisco is this afternoon," Cay explained. "He is parading with Perro and Roux. My friends are coming in from New Orleans so I wanted to be here when they arrived. Frank was happy to take Roux-- said the more dogs the merrier. I think he has the three of them dressed as the Three Stooges."
"I don't even want to know who is playing the part of Curly!" Raven chuckled
Her friend Marcy had caught a ride with Bang and the Quest Playboys, the famous New Orleans zydeco band who was playing the big dance at the Lake Charles Center that night. Zydee Bob Beaux was playing with the band too, and the group plus Marcy, plus Mambozo were all supposed to be rolling in soon. An accident on I-10 blocked the main road connecting East and West Louisiana and the detour added on an unsuspected hour to their trip. The band didn't play until the big dance that evening, but Mambozo needed to be there by 2 p.m. for some fun run he insisted was taking place. Marcy had called from the road, but the cell phone connection was so bad, Cay just shouted at them to call when they got in.
As Raven and Cay continued their ramble, they stopped in front of a booth sporting a beautiful flag of deep green, black and yellow. "This krewe here? This is the Krewe of Cosmos. They are the oldest krewe around these parts, being around since 1950. I always liked them because they always go visit the nursing homes and entertain the old folks around here."
Cay's rubber necking was interrupted by a loud group of rowdies heading down the pathway straight for them. "This looks like trouble coming."
"Watch out for those guys, they're nuts!" Raven said. as someone rode by on a horse followed by a group of gnarly looking pirate types who took great pleasure in saying ARGGGHHH!, brandishing plastic circular swords at the crowd, and getting up in the faces of fairgoers, while slugging gulps from a bottle of whiskey.
One shoddily bearded man smelling of whiskey and wearing a bandana and an eye patch, drew a fake plastic sword from his wide, leather belt and grabbed Raven, putting the sword to her neck. "ARGGGHHH! Here's a beauty. I shall take you as my plunder and ravage you soundly." He nodded at Cayenne. "Seven pounds silver to see your friend alive at the end of the day."
"Sammy, you are impossible!" Raven laughed and shook him off.
The pirate laughed and bowed his head in respect. "All in good fun, ladies. Happy Mardi Gras to you!" he said, before taking off to chase after some young children who had stopped to stare at the spectacle.
"That's the Krewe du Lac." Raven explained, none the worse for her ravaging. "They are supposed to be in the spirit of Jean Lafitte, the pirate that named this lake after Charles Sallier. They call themselves the Party Animals of Southwest Louisiana and have won the Spirit Stick Award for the last three years in a row. Impossible scamps, but a lot of fun. No need for therapy amongst that group. They got it all figured out."
Cayenne slowed down and elbowed Raven toward one of the booths. "Look, Raven. It's the Krewe du Lacquer."
The bright simple flag of the Krewe du Lacquer snapped sharply in the wind, flying over a prime flat spot next to the sidewalk. Two tables of catered finger food in near rows with green, purple and gold paper plates beckoned passersby into the booth. Swedish meatballs cooking over Sterno flames and each of the toothpicks was topped with the Krewe du Lacquer flag in perfect miniature. The back of the tables opened up into a roped off area where the financial sponsors, the Isle of Capri Casino, had set up a Monte Carlo booth with every man, woman and child were given a handful of colorful Mardi Gras poker chips to start their faux gambling. Each person also got a special pair of commemorative beads with two rolling dice for a pendant. The gambling parlor was packed with fairgoers, laughing and hoping for a kiss from Lady Luck.
Cayenne heard a familiar voice.
"Well, Miss Del Roi, care to take a chance at our little roulette wheel back here?" Star came forward. She was dressed in a red, white and black silk jumper covered with pictures of dice and hands holding excellent poker hands. Her hair seemed to reach even higher today, in a perfect cone reaching to the sky and wrapped in a red and black checkered scarf and red Mardi Gras beads sporting a medallion of two dice and the logo "Deuces Wild." She held a cocktail in her hand and toasted toward Cay. "I heard you have thrown in your lot with the Krewe of Muses, but darling, we are always looking for new members. And God know, your hair needs us badly. "
She cackled at her little joke, then continued. "We've forgiven your little stunt with the search warrant. Looks like it did no harm. Daphne looks like a shoo-in for the Queen, so we will forget your indiscretion. Given, of course," she looked icily at Cay, "that we have no more such shenanigans."
She motioned to a young, fairly pale man who was over at the table. "Anthony, please get me some beads for Ms. Del Roi and her friend here. I'd be pleased if she would wear them for us as a testimony to the graciousness of the krewe of the next Queen of the Mardi Gras Gala."
Anthony, rambled over and gave both Raven and Cay a set of beads. He was a rangy, lean handsome type dressed in black pants and a well pressed purple dress shirt with no tie, wearing just a single strand of purple metallic beads made up of tiny plastic dice. His name tag said "Anthony Blaine, Lake Charles Visitor and Convention Bureau,"
"Compliments of the Krewe du Lacquer!" He said cheerily as he passed them two strands of red beads. Cay noticed that his jovial tone was a bit forced and there was something disturbing in the way he appraised Cayenne, as if already knowing who she was.
"Anthony is helping organize the Mardi Gras Gala on Monday. He has been most helpful with Daphne's candidacy. We adore him." She patronizingly caressed his hair. Anthony flinched.
"Thanks, Star," Cay said, trying to return an equally festive tone. "Now make sure you stop by and get a bowl of Bernard's fine gumbo. It is going to take the Grand Prize this year and I would hate for you to miss it."
As Cay and Raven moved away, Raven said, "Yikes. She gives me the creeps."
Cay was still wondering about Anthony Blaine when she ran straight into the strangest character she had ever seen. It was a rag tag creature dressed in a patchwork of cotton shreds and fringes, like a leather fringed coat and pants, except made of cotton prints of red calico, chicken prints, bandana materials and bright purple polka dots. It's face was a wire mask with a nose from a sock and felted mouth and eyes. Atop its head was a pointed conical hat with another fringe of polka dots flying in the wind. The thing looked like a medieval cartoon on an acid trip.
"Whoa!" Cayenne stopped in her tracks.
"Ladies! Happy Mardi Gras!" the creature tipped his capuchin and with a muffled voice screened through the mask said. "See you at the run!"
"What was that?" Cay asked Raven.
She explained. "That's a rider from the Courir de Mardi Gras. They do Mardi Gras a bit different out in the country, around Lafayette, Mamou and especially Church Point where Elena's family is from. They call it the Courir de Mardi Gras, or the Running of Mardi Gras. All the men gather in krewes dressed like that man and ride horses between the houses begging for vegetables, rice, sausage and chickens. Some are clowns, some are captains, but at the end of the day, they donate all the food that they've gathered together for a big community gumbo and dance in the middle of town. The outfits represent a mixture between poor people begging for food and a mocking the royalty who caused the people to be poor in the first place."
Raven stopped to lean over and pick up a stray pairof beads that had been dropped on the ground, then continued, "You usually don't see them out until Mardi Gras day itself, but he's probably here for the run."
"My friend Mambozo is running in that. He is supposed to be here pretty soon."
Raven gave her an odd look. "He's in the chicken run? Is he a rider? Or a kid?"
"Yes. I mean he's in the run but he's not a kid. Uh, he's not a rider either… " she said, realizing she had never really explained Mambozo.
"It's a long story, but the truth is, he's a chicken," She quickly explained about Mambozo being a Santaria priest who was sent to guard her life during the search for the rubboard killer during a previous Mardi Gras season and who ended up being her detective sidekick. "I guess he's been training and getting in shape. He must have been thrilled to find a run especially for chickens."
"Oh my God, girlfriend! We've got to stop him!. He's going to end up in the pot." Raven started running. " The chicken run is a carnival event where the Courir chase after the chickens to catch them to go into the gumbo that's going to be eaten at tonight's dance. We got to get to Mambozo before he starts down the chute."
"Yikes!" Cay started running, too.
The two worked their way back to the Krewe of Muses booth which was gaily set off by their own flag sporting the lovely Muse Urania, Muse of Astronomy. A string of checkered triangles circled the booth and at each corner stood a Styrofoam mock statue of Greek Goddesses. Venus de Milo was strung with a dozen assorted beads and wore a ring of woven flowers in her Styrofoam hair. Bernard stood cooking over a large gas stove and Nicolette, Anna Marina and Marie Marguerite sat a back booth sewing, beading shoes and talking.
"Hey ladies! One more hour of cooking and I'm ready for y'all to have a bowl. I cooked up the real gumbo for the contest this morning over at the Center and they're announcing the winner soon." He pointed his soup ladle at Cay. "Hey, your cell phone went off a couple times."
She pulled it out of her knapsack. There was a hurried, breathless message from Marcy. "Hey, Cay, we're here, but Mambozo is late so we are going to take him to the starting line and we'll find y'all later. Love you girlfriend. So excited to be here and see y'all again! Can't wait to have Raven cook for us!"
"We've got to stop him!"
Raven and Cay ran through the crowd pushing past beaded and masked fair goers. Anna Marina and Marie Marguerite joined them in the chase, making a disturbance as they raced toward the open field that hosted the chicken run.
When they got to the place, they saw the riders had already started chasing after chickens. The crowd was cheering and there was the very loud squawking of terrified poultry, with an occasional flying of feathers above the crowd.
Cay pushed a path to the front to get a better view. What she saw almost broke her heart. Her cherished Mambozo was dressed in a tiny pair of black Reeboks, bright yellow little running shorts, and a tank top that said "Little Yellow Magnolia." He stood in the middle of the field facing down a Courir rider seated on his horse. The rider wore a black mask, and his entire outfit was tatters and fringe, patchwork and seams. His hands wore leather gloves and even his horse was draped in fringe, like a poor cousin to the horses that wore armor into battle. Rider and chicken seemed at some kind of a standstill staring each other down at the center of the ring. Cay almost wondered if Mambozo had the rider in some kind of Haitian voodoo trance.
"Mambozo, this is not the kind of run you think it is!" She shouted, trying to get her friend's attention.
"Ah, chere. That has become very clear to me."
The crowd gasped. They had never heard a chicken talk before. The words seemed to hold the rider in check a moment longer. He cocked his head to one side like a puzzled cocker spaniel.
Cay spied Bang and Zydee Bob Beaux just arriving at the edge of the crowd. She called out to them. "Hey, you guys! Help me!" At Cay's yell, Mambozo's attention was drawn towards to the two men. It gave him the out he was looking for. Mambozo took a flying leap and landed in the arms of Zydee Bob, who having just arrived on the scene, stood with a surprised look on his face, like a young boy who just got caught eating the last piece of pie.
The crowd started whispering and someone recognized the two men. "Look, it's Bang and Zydee Bob Beaux from the Quest Playboys! The band caught the chicken!" He yelled. "Aiyyyeeeee!" Some of their fans started to clap and yell.
The rider came closer and got off his horse.
Zydee Bob leaned over to Bang friend and whispered, "Think quickly of something, my friend."
Bang appeared just as surprised and on the spot as Zydee Bob. A tense moment passed, then he whispered decisively, "Grab Mambozo by the legs and swing him around. Follow my lead."
"Hang on, cap!" Zydee Bob grasped Mambozo's two running shoes in his hand and hung him upside down. He stepped out in front of the crowd and showed his prize chicken off, turning from one side to another, swinging him around and clowning a bit, acting the part of the showman.
Bang stepped forward and gestured toward the capture of the chicken. He then faced the menacing rider, clicked his heels together smartly, and gave him a snappy salute. He then began to sing in a strong, baritone used to performing for a crowd.
Capitaine, Capitaine, voyage ton flag!
Zydee Bob caught on immediately what Bang was doing and joined in on the refrain.
ALLONS C'ES L'AUTRE VOISIN
As they sang, a few "aiyyeees" rising from the crowd from folks who recognized the traditional "Danse de Mardi Gras" song.
Demander la charite pour vous-autre, vous venez nous rejoindre
Vous autre vous venez nous rejoindre
Oui au gumbo ce soir
Bang pointed at Mambozo who was being slung over the shoulder of Zydee Bob like a cheap piece of meat. "Oui, au gumbo ce soir, no, mon ami?"
The rider cocked his head again, intrigued to hear a pair of city boys singing the traditional song that led the yearly runs. The horse moved forward, whinnied loudly, impatient to get on with the capture.
As if not quite convinced, this time the rider sang a line, daring the duo to continue.
Les Mardi Gras ca vient de tout part tout
His voice was strong as well, but higher, a weathered tenor with a strong country accent. The two musicians didn't miss a beat.
TOUT ALENTOUR LE TOUR DU MOYEU
The duo, continued to sing, and waved their hands, motioning to motion the crowd to join in. Mambozo squawked excitedly, convincingly playing the part of a chicken terrified for his life.
Ca passé une fois par an demander la charité.
Quand meme si cest une patate, une patate et des gratons
The rider laughed and said, "I'll be damned," He climbed back up on his horse and tipped his hat. "Bon Appetit!" he said as he rode his horse off in a different direction, trying to find a more traditional chicken to throw into the pot.
"Mambozo! What are you doing?" Cayenne pushed passed the crowd toward Bang and Bob. She took the lean little chicken in her arms and pecked him on the beak. "You could have been soup!" She smiled at the two musicians. "Thanks guys. I owe you big time!"
She saw Marcy scamper up behind the crowd, out of breath and cheery. "Hey, girlfriend! I just parked the car. Did Mambozo win?"
As the New Orleans friends chatted and got reacquainted, Cayenne introduced them to the members of the Krewe and invited them all back to the site. Bang and Zydee Bob said they had to get their equipment over to the stage at the Convention Center first and then would wander over. Marcy was going to take Mambozo back to the car to drop off his running clothes.
The excitement of seeing her friends caused Cayenne to skip back through the crowd to the site where the Krewe of Muses flag flapped slowly in the wind. She wasn't the only one who was excited. From several lengths away, Cay could see that Bernard was beaming a huge smile and when he saw Cay, he threw his chef's hat straight into the air. Nicolette waved a dish towel in victory.
"Check it out!" He pointed to a large blue ribbon he was wearing on his chest. "First Prize in the Sausage and Wild Meat Gumbo Division! I bring glory to the Krewe!"
Nicolette kissed him on the cheek. You are… you are… le meilleur …my hero!."
Bernard blushed through his beard. "The only thing left is the boudin ball competition. I made too many, but can you ever have too many?"
Cay couldn't help looking at Nicolette. She looked radiant. She was dressed with a tiara and a simple spray of net and stars in a tight fighting short dress and silver boots beaded with a belt winding up her shapely, petite ankle. Three simple strands of silver and peral beads hung around her neck. Jacques will love having her as a model, Cay thought. She had seen some rough sketches of the dress he was thinking and it promised to be an orbital event.
"You are looking every part the queen today, Nicolette." Cay remarked.
The French woman blushed. "It is very strange, this American custom, but also… c'est amusant… fun as well. I am most…"
Her words were interrupted by a ruckus in the crowd followed by a shaking of the ground and what sounded like the rumbling of thunder. Cay looked up to see a masked rider on the horse galloping down the outside path. For a moment Cay thought the Courir de Mardi Gras was back looking for Mambozo. But the rider was dressed in a frilly shirt, a black tricolor hat festooned with a large white feather, and a mask of pure white covering his features. It was a pirate, one of the Jean Lafitte du Lac people terrorizing folks in the crowd with a hardy har-har and a short knife that seemed a bit too realistic for comfort.
Nicolette tried to wave him down. "Lentemente, monsieur! You are going to hurt someone."
The rider aimed his horse directly at the Krewe of Muses booth toward Nicolette and did not slow down. As he got closer he turned his horse sharply to the right, then leaned over expertly and scooped Nicolette up, hooking his hand under her arm and pulling her up. He laying her over his lap, then slapped his horse to ride faster. "Arrggh, my beauty! You're mine now." He rode quickly away in a direction opposite that of the Krewe du Lac.
Anna Marina started to hoot and laugh. "Those pirate people are outrageous. They are out of control! I guess now we have to go pay a pile of gold doubloons to get her back."
Marie Marguerite joined in the teasing. "It's war, I tell you! They have our Queen. Let's roll the old cannon from the Triangle Park over to their booth and fight back!"
Bernard didn't think it was so funny. "He could have hurt her. That's no stunt. That was dangerous!"
Raven's reaction was the strangest. She looked long in the direction of the rider even he was gone, then said quietly. "That seems a little extreme even for them. I know most of those folks in the Krewe du Lac and I don't recognize that guy. Come on, Bernard. I know where their site is. Let's go over and rescue Nicolette."
Bernard looked at Cayenne. "Please, chere, keep cooking the gumbo. It needs another 30 minutes before it is ready for your friends." He and Raven took off in the direction of the Krewe du Lac booth.
She nodded and moved in to take Bernard's spot. Marie Marguerite looked at her watch, then said to Anna Marina. "Hey, we better go too. Kenois has her quilt in the quilt competition and they are about to name the winners. We should go show our support." She turned to Cay, "Will you be okay here, holding down the fort?"
"Yah, sure, you betcha!" she said cheerily. They left her solo in the booth. She stirred the gumbo pot, then again five minutes later, and then again as she waited for someone to come back to the booth. She grew a little bored -- she was never much of a cook. She looked around for something to drink and she spied the tray of boudin balls there on the preparation table. It was Bernard's entry for the competition to take place later that night. Cay saw he was right. There were tons of them.
Cayenne wondered what was so special about them. She remembered the absolute envy in Kristina's voice. She thought she would check to see what the fuss was all about. She lifted a corner of the plastic wrap, pried one from the back of the tray and popped it in her mouth. It was crispy on the outside and moist on the inside, with bits of rice and other undefined meat filling up the center. A gentle bite of spice finished off the taste. It was delicious and it reminded her how much she hungry she was. She saw a few smaller, misshapen ones to the side, that looked like rejects. She reasoned that it would probably help Bernard out if she ate the less-than-average ones. Surely he couldn't enter those lumpy ones into competition.
She picked up a smaller one which came easily off the tray. She put it in her mouth and started chewing. Whatever pleasure she had in eating the first ball was totally wiped out by the taste of this one. It was dry, and piney tasting, as if the pork had gone bad or there was too much baking soda in it. Cay swallowed half of it and tried spitting out the rest in a nearby trash container coughing and hacking up as much as she could. The metallic taste hung in her mouth. She grabbed a beer that Bernard had left on the counter and washed the nasty taste off her palate. She neatly replaced the plastic wrap and wished Bernard all the best trying to get that past the judges.
He probably stuck that one there so people wouldn't touch his balls, she reasoned, then smiled. She knew that was a bad joke, but she knew that Bernard was probably teased about his balls all the time.
She heard laughing and talking and suddenly the booth filled up with people all at once. Bang and Zydee Bob had dropped off their things at the Center and had brought a few instruments for a jam. They pulled a couple beers from the cooler, and arranged some chairs near the open space at the back at the booth. Bang started on a familiar two-step tune on the accordion and Zydee Bob kept rhythm on a triangle. Marcy convinced a middle aged man cooking sausages at a nearby booth to come on over and two-step with her.
Kenois, Marie Marguerite and Anna Marina came back chatting excitedly about Kenois quilt taking third place in the competition, and after introductions, Kenois became particularly intrigued with Mambozo. "A talking chicken?" she kept saying. "Well, how about that?" The two huddled in the corner and began a very serious conversation about the practice of Santaria in the state of Louisiana.
The rhythm of the accordion and the triangle started attracting visitors from around the fairground and soon the small open area behind the booth was filled with folks of all ages dancing and yelling.
Cay hovered near Bernard's gumbo pot, dutifully stirring every few minutes. It gave her an excuse to be a spectator, instead of dancing, as she enjoyed the music and the pure looks of joy on people's faces as they waltzed, jitterbugged, and two-stepped over the grassy ground.
As she tapped her foot and stirred the gumbo, she started to feel the beginning of waves of nausea. She was wondering if she was coming down with the flu, when a strong cramp in her stomach doubled her over. It passed, like a bad case of intestinal gas, and she was able to catch her breath. Then the pain grabbed at her stomach again, this time like a vise grip grasping a soft piece of wood. Her vision began to fade in and out. Then her hand involuntarily spasmed and dropped the stirring spoon in the pot of gumbo.
Through the thick fog that seemed to be washing over her, she heard Marcy yell, "Cay! What's the matter?" Then the accordion stopped suddenly and there were a multitude of voices washing over her. The world blacked out and Cay felt herself fall to the ground like in a dream, hitting her hand against the hot gumbo pot before falling into the soft ground.
The last thing she remembered is being on the ground and coming to her senses just long enough to recognize Mambozo's little chicken face looking concernedly into her eyes, whispering words in Creole. Then she faded to nothingness and the world went silent.
CHAPTER NINE:Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When To Fold 'Em.
Copyright by Aileen M. McInnis, 2006. All rights reserved. Contact the author at aileen_mcinnis@yahoo.com .
